A Season Divided
“…put it together and what do ya got? Bipody bopidy boo.” The animated ring tone vibrating from her new cell phone startled Mrs. Scott. Pushing her devotionals aside for the third time that morning, her daughter’s identity scrolled along its fancy screen.
“Hello, Jennie?” She answered frantically, fumbling with its stiff buttons before it crashed to the floor, “I’m going to bury this phone alive.” She muttered before returning her daughter’s call.
“Yes dear?” Are you on your way out to see Kurt?”
“No!” Jennie shouted, “I’m stuck at the laundry mat thanks to dad. I got home late from work last night and I couldn’t wash my clothes. I have to leave at noon!”
“We are waiting on a part,” Her mother snapped, “and please watch your tone. Remember, one of the fruits of the Spirit, is being patient, like me.” She added with punch.
“I’m sorry for being rude. I just forgot.” Concerned, Jennie prodded, “Is everything alright mom? You don’t sound like yourself, today.”
“I feel frustrated and cranky, so I apologize too. How do I spend quality time with two men that I love?”
“That’s not funny, mom! What are you saying?”
“I’m talking about a deeper relationship with dad and Jesus, dear. It’s just the season of a year for me, I guess.” She spoke with a frown. “I crave to hear from the Lord, and time with them both.”
“Why don't you have time?”
“Well, both Dad and I work, there’s your wedding, Steen’s graduation and his undecided future, the dirty house, the washer, your older brother, Jack, scavenging the fridge since he’s moved out...”
Jennie agrees with a chuckle.
“You know? Blah, blah, blah,” Her mother continued.
“I’m sorry you feel that way, mom. Once I graduate from nursing and become Mrs. Schmaus,” Jennie added with spice, “We kids will be out of your hair.”
Her mother’s heart sank. “I’m not trying to push anyone out the door.” She attested, feeling a knot in her throat. “We love you all very much.”
“Mom, would you do me a small favor?”
“Sure, what’s this small favor I wonder?”
“Would you cut up my brownies I made for Kurt? I still have to come home, dry my clothes and get packed. Oh please pretty please?” Jennie begged.
Mrs. Scott glared hungrily at the red foil pan laid upon the counter. Gurgling and springy noises were felt in her belly.
“Ok, ok, you don’t have to beg, that’s what mothers are for. But I’m starving here.” She warned.
“I’m only slurping on clear liquids today. And now I’m being tempted with my peanut butter favorite? I hope I can resist its smooth fondant icing and chewy bottom.”
“That’s right, your Colonoscopy is tomorrow.” Jennie mused.
“Yes, but that’s alright,” Her mother assured her. “Right now this fifty-year old lady is pleading this yellow broth I’m sipping on was a real chicken.”
“God is so awesome, Honey.” Mrs. Scott announced as they settled in for the evening. Beneath the metallic, January moon, shadowy pines in the distance juggled their clumpy needles outside her bedside window. Their mitten formed branches performed a patty cake display in the frolicking breeze.
“Jack’s been working you hard at the gym,” poking her husband’s swollen pecks. Tell me your name again, Popeye? It’s been lonely around here.”
“Was your Colonoscopy today, Hun?” Her husband twittered, pulling her tighter to his side. “The sedative causes amnesia of the brain.”
Sharing in his witty humor was a blessing and comfort as Mrs. Scott drifted off for the night.
“Mom, Dad?” A voice called out from the hallway and Steen stepped into the room.
“The spaghetti’s all gone, what’s up with that?” He asked, standing in the dark.
“I can explain that one.” His mother yawned. “It seems we’re the four bears and Jackilocks has struck once more.”
“Again,” Steen continued inconvenienced, “my wet clothes were taken out of the dryer and now they stink.” He snatches the purring kitty from their bed.
Wow! I do hear you, Lord, squealed Mrs. Scott within her soul, we are in touch after all. “’It’s not just one’s own season of a year. But seasons of a lifetime divided by a family’s love.’” Smiling, and you are so clever, Lord, “’just like the outcome of my Colonoscopy; it’ll all work its way out in the end.’”
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